


The lesser of two evils

by aguwustdick (sugandrew)



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-19 15:56:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18137828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugandrew/pseuds/aguwustdick
Summary: Kind of the guilt that working in The Commission left on Five.Based on Two Evils by Bastille.





	The lesser of two evils

**Author's Note:**

> I'm quite proud and nervous at the same time, I haven't read anyone talking about this before, so I was really excited, it took me a lot of work and there are probably a lot of typos because me no saber english. Anyways, hope you like it !!!!

Had he been Icarus, pride would’ve been his sun. He was so proud he did something he shouldn’t have. “I’m ready to travel in time, father.” He said, but he wasn’t.

He got too close to the sun, and when he realized it his wings were already melted and he was falling face first into the water. In front of him were four thirty year olds, three men and one woman. They looked like his siblings, and they had the tattoos on their wrists, but two of them were missing. He went through the debris until his hands bled. They weren’t there, so he called them. He screamed their names until he couldn’t speak, which wasn’t long, the air drowned him and everything was grey. He wanted to go home.

He opened his eyes, he was sitting in his bed, the house was in one piece, and the world was going to end.

 

There was a time where he was on The Commission's side, where his rival was his boss and he was the  _ perfect candidate  _ to be her successor. 

Inside cheap hotel rooms, with an empty glass bottle by his side, he drowned himself in equations, writing, crossing, then writing more, until his vision was blurry and he couldn’t think anymore.

He wasn’t as bad as The Handler, he was sure of it. Yes, he is known to be cold, logical, merciless and took pride in what he did, just like her. But he didn’t like the guns, the flamethrowers or the grenades she showed like another person would show him a song that she practiced for weeks, because he’s the only one that listens to her and... _ he left her _ . He shook his head. He had feelings, that’s what made him different. He felt guilty about leaving her alone and reading about it in a book, that made him better, right? 

Maybe, just maybe, he enjoyed what he did, but he didn’t realize. The idea chased him in his nightmares, where he saw himself sitting in that damn desk, his name on a silver plate and no remorse in the chaos he caused. Before he realized it he was choking, gasping, crying, begging for air, alone in a shitty hotel room, or his room in the mansion. 

If he was better than The Handler, how could he murder all those people?

 

When he managed to breathe, between coughs and sobs he drowned his feelings again. They called him little psycho, prick, and unpleasant when they thought he wasn’t listening, and heartless when they knew he was. He wasn’t going to say “Hey, fuckers, I have feelings too, you know? But I’m not going to let them stop me from doing something I’ve been waiting forty five years, dozens of murders and thousands of equations to do.”, still, when he told Allison he wanted to meet Claire and when he passed out asking them to leave him behind, in the back of his mind he wanted them to realize he felt even more than they did, but they didn’t. They couldn’t see behind the (very broken) mask.

Everyone was busy with their bullshit, and he understood, but as he stood up to have a cup of coffee, his body feeling like it had been torn apart, he wished someone could see. But he had to lead them, even though no one noticed, he didn’t care, he could talk about it when the world was safe (But he wasn’t going to), but now someone had to keep them together and focused on the goal, which is having more than three days left to live.

 

When he fell asleep in the couch without realizing, he had a nightmare. Four bodies, Klaus’ eyes were open, Allison’s throat was covered in dry blood and she was gasping for air, Luther wasn’t breathing, and neither was Diego. Vanya was with her black suit, eyes shining and violin in her hands, blood sliding down the bow. She was smiling, looking at her sister gasping by her feet. He was sitting in his desk, a silver plate with his name on it was standing in front of him and he was smiling, it was what it was supposed to happen. Lo que será, será. 

 

He woke up sobbing, covered in sweat and with six eyes looking at him, well, eight, but Ben doesn’t count.

“Care to say why you were crying like a baby in your sleep?” Diego said.

“Actually, no.” He stopped and took a deep breath. He could do this. “I had a nightmare.” 

Nobody was expecting him to admit it, so they didn’t know what to say. Five took that as a rejection, so he got up and left, or at least he tried. 

Diego grabbed his wrist, and his brother tensed in response, so he let go. There were so many things they didn’t know about Number Five.

“You aren’t a psycho, are you?” Klaus whispered.

“What makes you think I am?” Five said without looking at any of them.

“You’re so…” Number Four looked like he ran out of words, and Five scoffed.

“Cold, focused, logical, maybe like I spent _ thirty years alone  _ with an _ eye _ , a  _ book  _ to see what you missed, talking to a  _ mannequin  _ and eating  _ cockroaches _ , then fifteen years killing innocent people to come here and  _ change the future _ , only to find out that you’re all a mess and can’t get their shit together for  _ a week _ ? Oh, maybe it is because it’s exactly what happened.” The three (four) of them were speechless, and he was hyperventilating. They knew he was still hiding stuff, but he said more in that last minute than he did since he came back.

“Do you want to talk about your nightmare?” Allison asked.

“Not really, but I’m guessing that you do, so, it was about my two worst fears mashed up together like peanut butter and marshmallows, but bad.” 

“You aren’t heartless.” Diego said.

“No shit, Diego.” He answered and left before someone could ask him to  _ elaborate _ . He wouldn’t be able to take it. 

“Fears?” He heard them ask to each other in the background.

“Yes, fears.” He said before he could stop himself. “I have fears, the fact don’t let them get in the way doesn’t mean that I don’t have them. I know it’s weird because you are still thirty and never had to kill people arbitrarily, keep yourself together when they remind you that you can and  _ should _ become your worst fear and _ came back in the body of someone forty five years younger than you _ .” Then he left. Feelings overwhelmed him, he needed to be alone. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it and don't hate me ksksksks


End file.
